“Keep Your Enemies Closer”

[Kansas_Jones 0]

05.26.07

ISS Agincourt ICC-81762

“Keep Your Enemies Closer”

 

“Ensign Mical here to see you Commander.” Master Chief Keltex entered the office area as he spoke, taking a watchdog post to the inside left of the doorway.

 

“Mm.” Kansas replied without looking up from the Padd she was perusing.

 

Mical entered and adopted a rather stiff parade rest stance in front of the Caitian’s desk. The Andorian officer had been a bit chilly, even for one raised on an ice planet, since the incident in the cargo bay. “Sir.”

 

JoNs fixed the woman with a look. “Ensign. How’s the back?” She did have her moments of flippancy – have we noticed yet?

 

“Fine. Sir. My complaint report to the commanding marines will have more details of the incident.”

 

Oh dear. “Uh,” real smooth response there Mrrett, “that idea is unwise.”

 

“Worried sir?”

 

“Actually, yes, considering I didn’t file an Incident Report in the first place.”

 

That statement got the junior officer’s attention. Her antennae shot straight up, and she stared at the security chief as if she had sprouted polka dot fur. All punishment incidents enacted by Security were usually filed with the commanding officer and executive officer. While not a huge breach of protocol to ignore a report, the Caitian was treading a thin line to ignore the procedure.

 

JoNs had to really work to keep a smirk from her face at the ensign’s discomfit. “Care to take a seat Ensign? Or perhaps you’d like a drink? Right now you look like you could use one or the other.”

 

She opted for the offer of a seat, taking one of the two guest chairs facing the desk. “Thank you, and no to the drink; with you Commander, I prefer my wits to be unclouded.”

 

Keltex snorted out loud at that comment. JoNs chose to studiously ignore the backhanded compliment.

 

The feline lieutenant commander placed the Padd she had been reading down on the desktop surface in front of Mical. “That is the Report that I intend to send to our Chief Jarheads – requesting the promotion of one Ensign Thay’lienne Mical to junior grade Lieutenant.

 

The Andorian female could only stare for a few seconds at JoNs. Finally, she found her voice, and with her gaze traveling back and forth between Keltex and JoNs, she spoke. “Excuse me – may I?”

 

JoNs, curious, watched as Mical rose and came around the desk to where she was sitting…and proceeded to check her for a neck pulse.

 

Keltex almost went into a conniption, he was laughing so hard. JoNs herself was vacillating back and forth between joining the laughter or having Mical beaten again.

 

The platinum haired ensign drew away and quickly re-took her seat, as if sensing JoNs’s reaction. “Your pulse is normal sir. Now why in the hell would you promote me a grade after you had me whipped?”

 

The woman was direct, Kansas would give her that. “Why not? You have the accumulated points, and haven’t done any unsanctioned killings recently. Other then your one brief foray into a blatant act of departmental discord, you are the very model of an officer. I hold no grudges Mical, but then again it wasn’t my back. Either refuse the promotion or take the new rank – your call Ensign.”

 

The blue skinned woman would be a fool to turn down a promotion, despite her misgivings regarding the source. “Very well sir. I accept the promotion.”

 

“Good. Now, that we have that out of the way, I’d also like you to share my personal body guarding duties with the Master Chief here. You and he will coordinate on the Alpha and Beta shifts. The third shift is my own damn concern.”

 

Honestly, JoNs lost Mical to the light this time. She half rose from her seat and waved a paw in the Andorian’s blank face. “Mical, stay away from the light, the light is very bad. Come back to us.”

 

Master Chief Keltex merely busied himself by gathering the flask of Saurian Brandy that JoNs kept stashed (and how in the name of the Great Predator Bird did he know it was there?) in a desk drawer and proceeded to pour some of the pale liquid in a squat, rounded glass. He placed the glass in front of Mical.

 

She downed the contents in one gulp, motioning for a second shot. Kansas merely waited patiently, reseating herself and folding her paws neatly on the desktop.

 

The Andorian eventually got a handle on the situation. “Permission to speak freely Commander?”

 

“Granted.”

 

“You ordered and carried out my flogging personally…yet, offer me a promotion and now an offer of personal guard duties. Why?”

 

An honest question deserves an honest answer. “Because Mical, you have – in the rather crude terminology of the Terrans – balls. Yes, you took a chance by trying to undermine me. You were caught and soundly dealt with. Some would have requested a transfer off ship, others would cower on another duty shift. Not you. As soon as sickbay released you, you went about your duties.”

 

Kansas shared a glance with Keltex before continuing. “I would rather use and redirect your boldness to my advantage Mical – and yours if you get my meaning.”

 

The woman was no fool, her protective instincts going into overdrive. “…and if I refuse?” Or rather, she was less a fool since the lashing and recovery time; she had thought long and hard during her stay in the medical bay about her options.

 

Keltex spoke up at that point. “Allow me to paraphrase – you will not receive a dagger to the chest Mical. The commander will merely move onto the next candidate in line for the secondary guard position.”

 

The Andorian nodded and refocused her attention on JoNs. Perhaps it was time for a lateral career move in addition to a promotion. “Very well sir – I accept this proposal as well.”

 

A slow leer lit the feline chief’s leonine features, and her eyes took on a predatory cunning. “Good.”

 

It was all about tactically entrenching your defenses and then sending out the scouts…